


Unlucky

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 21:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17495687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: Scorpius is facing a string of bad luck, from being unable to secure funding for his research to his boyfriend being unable to find a job. He's exhausted.





	Unlucky

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts:  
> Write about someone having a string of bad luck.  
> (words) suggest, harsh  
> (colour) mauve

Scorpius read through the letter that had come in the post minutes earlier, cursing as he processed disappointing word after disappointing word.

The investor wouldn’t fund their next project because they didn’t view it as having a practical use, as if the only research worth funding produced a product to be marketed at the end. If their experiment worked out, it could be a major breakthrough in potions, and Scorpius was confident in their hypothesis. He figured most of the major funders were too. Their reluctance to fund them didn’t often have anything to do with a lack of confidence in their work.

“Is it bad then?” Carina asked from across the room.

Scorpius glanced over at her, noting the large stack of papers on top of her desk. They’d both been writing investor after investor, leaving their actual research at a standstill. Not that they could have done much anyway when they couldn’t pay for it. Scorpius longed to be at his cauldron again; that was why he’d taken the job in the first place: to make potions. If only his presence hadn’t been toxic to the organization, leading to an ever decreasing pool of investors interested in funding them.

“They suggest that we look elsewhere for funding,” he said with a scowl. “As if we haven’t already written to every major investor in Britain.”

He copied the letter with his wand, placing the original carefully to the side to keep it for their files. The copy, however, he balled up and threw into the fire, watching with satisfaction as it dissolved into ash.

Carina watched it too, not speaking until there was no trace of the parchment left.

“It’ll be okay,” she said. “Our hypothesis is sound, and the proposed experiment isn’t expensive in the grand scheme of things. Someone will be willing to take on the cost.”

Scorpius nodded, jaw tight. He’d thought that at the beginning, but he was starting to give up on the idea. This was the first project he’d taken on as a lead researcher, and it was proving disastrous. Investors hadn’t been quite as hesitant when his name hadn’t been the one to appear first on their published results.

“It would help if our last experiment hadn’t been such a failure,” he said in a flat voice. Memories of the cauldron explosion that had debunked the hypothesis they’d been testing were vivid in his mind’s eye. “If it weren’t for that, the _Prophet_ never would have written about our work and devoted an entire page to the unsavoury history of my family instead of the work we’re trying to do.”

Carina cringed.

“Surely any worthwhile funder isn’t going to be swayed by some sensationalized piece in the _Prophet_ ,” she said, not for the first time since the article had come out. “We’re doing honest to Merlin potions here. We’re doing important work. The _Prophet_ article only demonstrated that their writer knew nothing about potions work.”

“It was written by Sebastian MacMillan,” Scorpius said. “He’s never liked me or my family, and he’s never been scared to be harsh about it.”

“Be that as it may, he can’t write about your family’s past forever. Especially in connection with our research when you didn’t do anything.”

Scorpius ignored her, staring down at his desk as memories of the article swam through his mind.

“He wrote two entire paragraphs on Signatious Malfoy,” Scorpius said, “and all that guy did was be inordinately interested in seahorses. He wrote about them his entire life. There’s a portrait of him in the manor. Did I mention that? It’s of him swimming with seahorses looking utterly ridiculous. The man didn’t deserve an entire two paragraphs in the _Prophet_.”

“Sounds like my kind of guy.” At Scorpius’ glare, Carina held her hands up. “Have you ever seen seahorses swim? It’s otherworldly. What kind of sea creature needs to swim like that? It’s strange but oddly hypnotizing. If anything, I think the guy deserved more than two paragraphs. I would have much preferred to read about him instead of that one ancestor you had who chopped a house elf to bits just to send the pieces to people he didn’t like.”

Scorpius cringed. They really weren’t going to get any funding.

“Every day, it’s a new rejection letter,” he said. “The experiment failure was crushing enough, but it’s like I can’t get a break. First that, then the _Prophet_ article, and now… How many rejections are we on? I don’t want to count.”

“And then there’s Albus…”

Carina trailed off in response to Scorpius’ glare.

“He’ll find something,” she said quietly as she turned back to her paperwork, not looking Scorpius in the eye.

Scorpius sighed, running a hand over his face. He needed to get another letter of request out if they had any hope of funding their work sooner rather than later. He couldn’t go home before it was in the post. Only then could he face the prospect of going home.

* * *

By the time Scorpius made it home, he felt as if he’d run a marathon, and the knowledge that the day wasn’t over weighed him down as he stared at his and Albus’ front door. It wasn’t as if he had a choice whether to go inside or not, and he hated that he dreaded spending the evening with his boyfriend. He really did.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open.

“Albus?” he called as he tugged off his shoes.

“In the living room,” was the answer, spoken in the same irritated voice that Albus had been using for more than a week as he grew increasingly sullen.

Scorpius let himself pause one final time before he entered the room Albus occupied without letting himself stop.

Albus was in the same position he’d been in the previous few days when Scorpius arrived home: prone on the couch with a mauve blanket draped over his form. His brow was furrowed as he stared into the fire, and Scorpius knew he’d be getting another headache just like he’d had several nights earlier.

“Hi,” Scorpius said with a gentle smile, struggling to keep his voice light without any hint of the events of earlier in the day.

Albus grunted in response, but Scorpius’ smile didn’t disappear as he walked towards him. For all that he’d been dreading sullen Albus, he looked adorable wrapped up in his blanket in front of the fire.

Without a word, Albus sat up, letting Scorpius slide onto the couch. He draped the blanket over both of them before pressing himself into Scorpius’ side.

Scorpius pressed a kiss to the crease in Albus’ forehead, earning a sigh in response.

“How was your day?” Scorpius asked.

The question deepened Albus’ frown.

“The same as usual,” he muttered. “I sat around here and tried not to lose my mind from boredom.”

Scorpius took a deep breath before asking his next question.

“Did you look for any jobs today?”

He received the expected glare before capturing one of Albus’ hands in his, running his thumb over the back of it. It didn’t lessen Albus’ frown, but he didn’t shake off Scorpius’ touch either, meaning this was going to be one of the nights he let Scorpius fuss over him instead of asking to be left alone.

Scorpius preferred those nights.

“There aren’t any jobs I haven’t already looked at,” Albus said with a roll of his eyes. “Not unless I’ve reached rock bottom and want to become a servant for the Rowle family.”

“There wasn’t—“

“There was,” Albus shot back, “and that’s the one thing I refuse to do in this world.”

A shiver travelled down Scorpius’ spine at the thought of Albus stepping foot in that family’s house. He’d have rather dealt with sullen, unemployed Albus for the rest of their lives.

“Here’s hoping no one answers that posting,” he muttered, hugging Albus closer as if he could protect him from such a fate by proximity. 

Albus didn’t say anything as he snuggled into Scorpius, not caring that he was still in his work robes as he buried his face in the crook of Scorpius’ neck. Scorpius reached up to tangle his fingers in his boyfriend’s hair.

“Do you want dinner?” Scorpius asked. “I can make something.”

Albus hummed as if it were an answer. Scorpius pinched at his side, making him squirm away only to come right back.

“Later,” Albus said.

He pressed a kiss to the sensitive skin on Scorpius neck. A shiver travelled down Scorpius’ spine, and he felt Albus’ smirk against his skin. When Albus laughed quietly, Scorpius’ heart twisted in response.

“Everything will be okay,” Scorpius said into Albus’ hair, unsure which of them he was talking to.

Albus pulled away to look at him, the smallest of smiles on his lips. He didn’t agree, but he used Scorpius robes to tug him closer, whispering, “Thank you for putting up with me,” against his lips.


End file.
